


A Rose for a Rose

by grangerweasleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerweasleys/pseuds/grangerweasleys
Summary: “A rose!” Scorpius exclaimed extravagantly, pulling out a single, red rose from his pocket. “A rose for a Rose!”Valentines Day traditions between Rose and Scorpius, from their first to final years at Hogwarts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I realised that I'd forgotten how extra and adorable these two are after seeing the show last month!

**First Year**

Rose hadn’t quite realised how much she would miss certain holidays now that she was at Hogwarts. The Halloween feast was, of course, as magnificent as it had been built up to be; the enchanted Great Hall, the feast, the Muggleborns laughing at the irony of it all… 

And yet Rose still went to sleep that night with a deep and aching longing in her stomach. She missed  _home_. She missed baking Halloween cookies with her Dad and going trick-o-treating with Hugo and her Mum, both of them giggling messes as they knocked on Muggle doors. Hogwarts was a fine substitute, but it was not her home.

Valentines Day brought the same ache back to Rose. Her Mum, Dad and Hugo had all sent her little Valentines cards for her to open that morning. But it was different; it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t watching her Mum and Dad lovingly open each others in the morning.

As she mulled over the ache inside of her that evening at dinner, she noticed James’s bright and mischievous eyes firmly fixed on her. Rose looked up and raised her eyebrows.

“So, Rosie,” James said. “Do you have a luscious Valentine that you’ve been hiding from us all?”

“As if I could hide a Valentine from ten cousins,” Rose retorted as she neatly buttered a slice of bread. “Don’t you, James? You  _did_  always go on about how irresistible the girls at Hogwarts found you.”

Sitting beside her, their cousin Fred snorted. “Irresistible? More like irritable. None of them can stand James, Rosie. Especially James’s little Hufflepuff honey, Monica.”

James’s face flared at the mention and Rose grinned back him. “Oh really? Haven’t told us that, have you, James?”

“I just need more time, you see,” James said quickly, his face now shaded over by redness. “More time to really show her what she’s missing out on, more time to…” 

James stopped, his eyes flickering upwards and away from Rose. A wide, playful smile had now appeared on his face as he leaned back against his chair in anticipation. “Rosie,” he said. “I think your Valentines has arrived.”

Rose spun around on her seat and there, towering over her, was a beaming Scorpius Malfoy. His pale cheeks were flushed, his robes awkwardly swung around him, and yet he gave the impression that, whatever he was doing, he was born to do it.

“What do you want?” Rose snapped. She had met Scorpius five months ago and, in that time,  had gained little patience for his constant fawning and flirting. 

Grinning, Scorpius turned his head to the Slytherin table and gave Albus a thumbs up. He cleared his throat and grandly straightened his posture. 

“Rose Granger-Weasley, I am here to wish you a Happy Valentines,” he said. “Happy Valentines day, Rose!”

The Gryffindor table burst out fits of laughter. Scorpius frowned slightly, thrown by it, before shaking his robes again.

“Rose Riddle, Rose Riddle, Rose Riddle,” Polly Chapman taunted, rolling the ‘R’.

Rose watched as Scorpius grimaced at the surname. His eyes flickered to Rose’s, excitement and hope flurrying through them. Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Scorpius, your food is going to get cold,” she said, flatly.

“That’s ok!” Scorpius replied. “I have something for you.”

“Scorpius — my Mum is Minister for Magic. I’m not supposed to take anything that …”

“A r _ose!_ ” Scorpius exclaimed extravagantly, pulling out a single, red rose from his pocket. “A rose for a Rose!”

At this, the Gryffindor table was doubled-over in painful hysterics. It did not bother Scorpius who, Rose believed, thought that his gift was the best thing that she had ever received. 

“Scorpius, your food is getting cold,” Rose said again. “Please go and sit down.”

“But it’s a r _ose_! For a  _Rose!_ Your name is Rose!” 

“I’m quite aware,” Rose replied. She sighed and reached out for the rose. “If you insist, I will take it. Will you go and sit down now?”

“Of course!” Scorpius said. “A  _rose_  for a  _Rose_! Happy Valentines day, Rose!”

* * *

**Second Year**

“Rose! Rose! Rose!” 

At the sound of Scorpius Malfoy’s voice, Rose quickened her march down the hallway. She had been certain that he would bother her today — not that he reserved it for special, romantic holidays, of course. But it was Valentines Day and Rose knew that he would exploit it to make the most out of his fantasist, annoying, and bizarre crush on her. 

“Rose!” Scorpius called again. He seemed to be running now.

Growling, Rose spun round and crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it?” She snapped. “Don’t you have  _my_  cousin to talk to?”

“You can come and talk with us, Rose!” Scorpius said quickly, nervously adjusting his robes. “You’re always welcome, you know…”

“No thanks,” Rose said curtly. “You can have Albus to yourself. Anyway, I need to get to the library…”

“It’s Valentines Day!” Scorpius spluttered. “Do you remember last year? A rose…”

Rose rolled her eyes. “For a Rose!” She mimicked him. “I’m going now.”

“No! I have something for you,” Scorpius said. He reached into his pocket and, to Rose’s dismay, pulled out another rose. “A tradition.”

Rose took it and huffed. “If you insist,” she said. “I’m going to the library now. Goodbye, Scorpius.”

“No! Wait!” Scorpius said, reaching his hand forward to pull her back. “I have one more thing, you see.” Scorpius began to fiddle around in the pockets of his robe, frowning as he rummaged. 

“Scorpius, I really need to…”

“Got it!” Scorpius said, his face brightening as he pulled out a cream envelope. “Ta-da!”

“What is  _that_?” Rose said, her face scrunched up.

“You’ll see,” Scorpius replied. He handed her the note and as if he had been rehearsing it all day, forced his left eye to wink at her. His voice turned comically husky. “I’ll, uh, see you around, Rose.”

And, with that, Scorpius ran back down the hallway.

Rose did not open the letter until later that night, when she had reached the comfort of her own bed. This, she had quickly realised, was the best decision that she could have made. Absolutely no one, especially James, could ever snatch the delicate paper from her hands and see its contents.

_A Poem for Rose by Scorpius Malfoy (helped by Mum)_

_Oh Rose,  
_ _You are perfect,  
_ _From the bottom of your toes,  
_ _Right up to your nose._

_Oh Rose,  
Here’s what I know:  
_ _You have been brilliant,  
_ _Since you were an infant._

_Oh Rose,  
_ _Daughter of Hermione and Ron,  
_ _I have long gone,  
_ _Crazy for you,  
_ _Hoping you will be for me too._

_Oh Rose,  
_ _Please be mine,  
_ _Happy Valentines._

* * *

**Third Year**

Rose did not receive a rose or a poem that year. Though she hexed him afterwards, James had took it upon himself to demand a reason as to why Scorpius had failed to humour them all. 

“Oh,” Scorpius had told him nervously, his lip trembling slightly. “I thought that — that it would only be right — if Mum was my only Valentine, this year.”

* * *

**Fourth Year**

Rose had managed to recover from the shock of the events of last October by February. It had been unnerving — the fact that she, Rose Granger-Weasley, hadn’t existed in those other worlds. That her position as the daughter of Hermione and Ron, the Mudblood and the Bloodtraitor, had truly been that fragile.

And it was Scorpius Malfoy — Breadhead, the Scorpion King — who had been willing to sacrifice his pureblooded position in the alternative world for her and her family. He had grown taller, had been more confident ( _“Malfoy the Unanxious, Rose, Malfoy the Unanxious”_ ), and had gotten on the Quidditch team surprisingly quickly. 

Not that Rose had noticed, of course. 

He still fancied her, too. His initial rejection did not deter him; he would bring it up, sometimes she wondered if he was joking (with Scorpius, the lines seemed to blur to her), and she would always teasingly role her eyes and shake her head.

_“O.W.Ls, Scorpion King,” Rose would say. “They are next year. Can’t be distracted, can I?”_

_“We could study…” He would reply, winking at her and pausing to aim a finger gun shot at her. “_ Together _.”_

So, it didn’t surprise her, really, that he would resume their —  _his_  — tradition of giving her a Valentines Day present. What did surprise Rose, though, was the absence of a single rose (or a poem) on her spot at the Gryffindor table that morning at breakfast.

In their place lay an extravagantly large and finely carved rose made from bread, surrounded by a circular assortment of beautifully assembled roses.

Below it, there lay a single note:

_To Rose,_

_Who smells of fresh flowers and fresh bread._

_Happy Valentines Day,_

_Scorpion King_

* * *

**Fifth Year**

“Do you smell that, Albus?” Scorpius asked excitedly. He swirled dramatically and sighed, his robes now tangled around him as he and Albus walked to the Slytherin Dungeons. “It’s the smell of  _love_.”  
****

“Of love?” Albus scoffed. “Smells more like a stink-bomb to me.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so sour. You must love Valentines Day by now,” Scorpius responded, jabbing his stomach. “Don’t be so disheartened that our lovely Potions Professor has left. I’m sure an adequate — and old enough — substitute will replace her soon.”

“For the umpteenth time, Scorpius, I do not have a thing for older women!”

“The heart wants what it wants, Albus,” Scorpius said. “Don’t fight it. I, for one, love Valentines Day. What’s not to love? A celebration of love, the sending of delicious chocolate and sweets…”

“And roses,” Albus said and he aimed a grin at his friend. “I take it that you’ve followed your traditional rose-giving?”

“It is second nature to me now, my friend,” Scorpius replied. “A grand bouquet was awaiting your cousin at breakfast this morning.”

“Ooh, a bouquet this year? You are upping your efforts, aren’t you?”

“Well, I do  _only_  have three Valentines Days left, don’t I?” Scorpius replied, glumly. “She’s been warming to me — I think — after I took your advice to…”

“Relax around her.” 

“Yes — to be Malfoy the Unanxious: the Rose Granger-Weasley edition,” Scorpius said. “You said it worked for your Mum with your Dad, didn’t you?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Albus said. He paused at the Dungeon’s entrance and gave the password. “There is another piece of advice that Aunt Hermione gave Mum, though.”

“There was? I haven’t read about it in any of Rita Skeeter’s books…”

“That’s because Mum  _hates_  Rita Skeeter,” Albus said, as the boys walked through the common room and to their dormitories. “Aunt Hermione told her to see other people.”

Scorpius gasped, a look of scandalised horror now plastered across his face. “Other people? See  _other_  people?!”

“Shhh, Scorpius! People are sleeping!” Albus said. “Yes, other people! And it worked alright for Mum, didn’t it?”

“I am a one-person man, Albus,” Scorpius replied. “As I always say: a rose is a rose, and I don’t want a daffodil or a dandelion or any other flower.”

“Suit yourself,” Albus said as they reached their beds. “But it could be good for you.”

Scorpius did not respond; he had, in that moment, even forgot that Albus was there. His eyes were  now transfixed on the gift that lay on his bed.   

A scorpion. A scorpion with a  _crown_. A scorpion with a crown carved out of  _bread_.

And beside it, a note:

_To Scorpion King,_

_I’m Rose Granger-Weasley. I don’t like to feel outdone._

_Happy Valentines Day._

* * *

**Sixth Year**

To Albus’s disbelief that year, Scorpius took his advice. 

He made an effort to talk to new people, to meet the gazes of those who had noticed that his body continued to shoot up in inches and become toned through playing Quidditch. It worked, mainly: dates here and there with various people. They had been pleasant, Scorpius had reported back, but nothing special.

That was until he met Jessica — a beautiful, golden-haired Ravenclaw who excelled in History of Magic.  They went on several dates, where Scorpius would return to Albus afterwards with a sheepish smile on his face and his cheeks red.

Albus didn’t only notice a change in Scorpius: Rose too seemed to be more tense around him and his best friend lately. It took Albus a week or two before he realised why.

_“You’re jealous,” he had accused her in the library one, cold winter morning._

_“I am not!” Rose had exclaimed, shooting up to gather her books together. “I am happy for him. I didn’t like his constant fawning either.”_

_“Don’t think that their recent dates have been going too well, though, I’d say,” Albus continued. “Don’t think that they have the same spark now that they’re taking things more…. seriously.”_

_“Rea- well, that’s a, uhm, shame. I hope things work out for them,” Rose said._

True to Albus’s word, Rose did not see Jessica with Scorpius after Christmas break had ended and the new term had commenced, nor did he approach her either. He seemed to avoid her between classes and would only nervously laugh whenever she tried to start their usual chatter.

And, as Valentines day approached, the thought of an absent rose began to mull in Rose’s mind.

_“Big day tomorrow,” Albus had said to her the day before. “Do you think that you’ll be getting a Valentines? Can you not ask Uncle Ron for a lo-”_

_“Oh, shut up, Albus!”_

But Rose was realistic and, one thing she had learned from being a Granger-Weasley, was that nothing good ever came from avoiding emotions. Was it because she liked the roses? Liked the thought that he put into it? Because he made her laugh with his annual gifts? Did she care because she  _craved_  his attention? _That can’t be right_ , she eliminated the night before as she lay in bed, _lots of people give me attention… I always get anonymous Valentines Day cards… I’ll get some tomorrow too…_

Whatever the reason, Rose could not deny or avoid the ache inside of her when she went the entire day without receiving a rose, or a poem, or something made out of bread. She searched the Gryffindor table anxiously at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, her eyes flickering whenever anything moved, or changed, or was placed onto the table until, at last, she gave up hope.

“There’s plenty of cards and chocolates on your bed that people have given you,” Rose had told herself angrily as she marched back to her dormitory after dinner. “Don’t be so silly! But they’re not roses, I suppose… roses are…”

“Rose?”

Rose spun around. Scorpius was standing in-front of her, a large bouquet of red flowers in his shaking hands. In the air next to him was, what looked and smelled like, fresh bread. 

“What… Scorpius, you’re a prefect!” Rose choked.

“That isn’t the reaction that I was, uhm, hoping for,” Scorpius replied.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Rose said quickly. She allowed her eyes to linger over the bread and she smiled. “Trying to out-do me?”

Scorpius laughed nervously. His fingers tensed and Rose wondered if they were aching to tuck his hair behind his ears, as he always did when he was anxious.  “I don’t think anyone could ever out-do Rose Granger-Weasley,” Scorpius said. “But I — I have something else for you.”

Rose smiled again. “Rose — check. Bread — check. Poem? I thought that you’d given up poetry.”

“I don’t know why Dad didn’t stop Mum from helping me with that. It was awful.” 

“Are you stalling, Scorpion King?”

Scorpius gave a small, nervous smile to her. “I have your poem, yes,” he said and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a piece of golden paper with white, elegant writing on it and, before he could continue, Rose took it off of him.

_Rose, Rose, Rose,_

_I know that you like my awful poetry,_

_But I’ve never been the one for diplomacy,_

_So I will be quick,_

_And hopefully slick:_

_Will you go out with me?_

* * *

**Seventh Year**

Rose woke up that Valentines morning with the heat of enchanted, warm blankets against her skin. The prefects common room was always so intolerably cold, she had thought, when such important work had to be undertaken in it. How was she supposed to do her job as Head Girl properly if it was too cold? How was Scorpius supposed to do…

“Good morning,” Scorpius hummed against her cheek before kissing it. “Happy Valentines Day.”

“So what is it this year? A rose? A poem? Bread? All three?” Rose grinned. “A rose shaped loaf of bread with a poem written within it?”

Scorpius stared at her blankly in silence. “How did you — I didn’t even tell Albus!”

Laughing, Rose grabbed his pyjama top and pulled his lips to hers. “Happy Valentines Day, Scorpius.”


End file.
